299 Days: The Community (15 page)

Grant continued, “I’d like to take the lead with these guys since I’m the one who has a connection out here. I’m a resident, even if I’m just a cabin person. You guys, though, are total strangers.” And one of you is Asian, Grant thought. Probably not a big deal, but when it came to a first impression that the Team were outsiders, probably being the only minority in the room would be a factor. In time, everyone would love Pow, like everyone always did.

“You guys are doing great on the political stuff,” Grant said to the Team. “Mark and John love you guys. I just wanted to script this meeting a little bit. It’s what I do,” Grant said.

Chip said, “I can talk more than the young guys, if that’s OK with you gentlemen. I look like the full-timers. They’ll relate to me.” And Chip was one of the most charming guys around. He made a living selling guns. He knew how to talk to guys, especially rural, working class guys. He was one himself.

“No prob,” said Scotty. “We want to fit in out here. It’s our home now.”

Good. Grant was relieved.

“OK, boys, let’s go do this meeting,” Grant said.

Grant went over to Mark’s. “Ready when you are,” he said.

“Let’s go,” Mark said. “Take my truck?”

Grant thought it would be good if the well-armed strangers rolled up in Mark’s truck.

“Of course,” Grant said. He motioned for the Team to pile in. They had their ARs and tactical vests in their hands.

“You’re not bringing those, are you?” Mark asked, a little concerned.

“Not into the meeting,” Grant said. “We’ll keep them in the cab. My guys need to have their gear. You never know what can happen there, on the way there, or on the way back,” Grant said with a shrug.

“OK, as long as they stay in the cab,” Mark said. He and Grant were on the same page with concerns about introducing “militia”-looking guys to the people of Pierce Point.

“Oh, and Mark,” Grant said, as they got into Mark’s truck, “these people at this meeting are your guys, so please take the lead with them. I told the Team that we are guests out here and that we are volunteers to Pierce Point and that we will be a part of the group effort, not doing our own thing.”

That was music to Mark’s ears. “Thank God you said that,” he said. “I was just about to have a heart-to-heart with you and say the same thing. You boys are a little more tactical than we’re used to out here. That will be a big advantage, especially when it comes to scaring off bad guys, but tonight is not the time for it.”

“Way ahead of you,” Grant said. “That’s pretty much what I told them. They’ll just have pistols on.”

“That’s perfect,” Mark said, lifting up his shirt and showing his concealed revolver. “Let’s saddle up. It’s ten ‘till.”

The Team was in the back of Mark’s truck. John, Paul, and Chip got in the rear back cab. Grant was in the front passenger seat.

Drew stayed behind. They needed a guard. Besides, Drew was a retired accountant. This security stuff would be primarily handled by others. He could take care of himself and guard the place while they were gone, but he wasn’t trying to be a cowboy. Everyone had a role, an important role. It’s just not that everyone needed to be a gunfighter.

In fact, too many gunfighters would mean people weren’t eating, getting medical treatment, and things weren’t getting repaired. Having all the gunfighters in the world wouldn’t do much good if the tactical bad asses were puking their guts out from food poisoning because everyone was too important to wash the dishes. Every single person out there had an important role.

After a short drive on the beautiful May evening, they arrived at the Grange. The parking lot was full. Almost all the vehicles were trucks. Men, and some women, were getting out of their rigs and going inside. The men looked like rural guys; tough and self-reliant compared to the people in Olympia. The women looked like country girls who knew how to take care of themselves. A few were wearing pistols. Most of the men were. No one had long guns for this meeting.

The Team definitely stood out, but not too much. They were the only ones in 5.11s. They had tactical pistol belts with the same Raven Concealment holsters. A trained observer could see that their pistols had small lights attached to them; the outline of the lights was visible through the holsters. No one else had those. But the guys, especially having Chip with them, didn’t look odd. They just looked different.

As they went in, Mark realized that he didn’t know everyone, either. Some of the faces were familiar, but that was it. Most of the full-timers were like Mark: rural residents in hunting and work clothes. Some had jeans and tee shirts. There were even a few who looked like cabin people.

Seats were going quickly. The sign inside said “Capacity: 120” and it looked like the place was just about full. A dozen or two women were there. Pow motioned for the guys to yield their seats to the ladies. That got noticed by the crowd, as a positive thing.

Rich Gentry was at the front of the room with a little podium. He was comfortable there, as he had given many briefings before and this was like being back at work at the Sheriff’s Department.

“OK, let’s get this thing going,” Rich said looking at his watch. “Thanks for coming out tonight. This is a meeting of what I guess we’ll call the Pierce Point Security Committee. I hate committees, but I love security, as in I love not having thieves, rapists, and murderers in my neighborhood,” Rich said, deciding to shock people into the reality they were there address.

“That’s what all this is about. Keeping out bad people. This is not a militia or anything like that.”

Everyone nodded.

“First of all,” Rich said, “is there anyone here who disagrees that we need a guard and patrol?”

Silence.

“Good,” Rich said. “By the end of this meeting, I’d like to have some volunteers to man the entrance to the Frederickson Road on a shift basis and some men,” he looked at two women in the front row, “well, some people to patrol inside the development. Once we have enough guards, we can start working on training and communications.”

Grant knew that this meeting was about more than just guards at the entrance and a patrol. Leaders would emerge from this meeting. It would set the tone for the governance of Pierce Point. By “governance,” Grant meant how food was distributed and shared, how medical care was handled, communications, and, eventually, what side—government or Patriot—Pierce Point would take.

But first things first, Grant thought. Security first, governance second, and politics last, if ever at all. It was all about surviving out there. Politics was a luxury for people who didn’t have to worry about surviving.

Grant was itching to have a role in the meeting, but he didn’t want to overdo it. He was a cabin person and brought a group of well-armed strangers there. He was a lawyer and most people hated lawyers. Grant had to be careful. He’d been in some tricky political situations, but this one was the most important one so far. He had the oddest feeling that the politics of this meeting would be child’s play compared to what was coming in a while.

Grant knew that he had to get a big role for the Team. They were exactly what Pierce Point needed. He wasn’t going to let his Team just blend into the neighborhood. What a waste.

I put you and them here for a reason.

Whoa. He hadn’t heard the outside thought for a while. He understood it loud and clear.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Rich Gentry. I was a sheriff’s deputy for eleven years until about six months ago. I left because some things were going on that I couldn’t be a part of. I’ll just leave it at that.” It was apparent that having to leave the force still pained Rich.

“I still have lots of friends on the force,” Rich continued. “They tell me that there basically is no more law enforcement out there right now.” He let that sink in for a few seconds with the crowd. No more law enforcement. Grant knew it, but suspected that most in the room hadn’t confronted this fact first-hand like he had. No more law enforcement was such a shock that it would take quite a while for most people to fully accept the new reality.

“We have to be law enforcement for ourselves until this all gets sorted out,” Rich said. “This doesn’t mean vigilantes. It means structured volunteers with some training and accountability to the community. None of you are expected to be like what law enforcement was. No six-month academy, but you need to know the basics. And you need to know when to use force and when not to. That last part is key. We are not a thug squad beating and killing people. I’ve seen enough of that in the past.”

Grant was so glad this Rich guy was laying the foundation for the neighborhood security force like this. Perfect.

I put him here, too.

Of course. Grant felt stupid for thinking this was pure chance.

“Here is my plan in a nutshell,” Rich said. “I’m not a dictator, so I want to lay it out, see what you think, and get started on putting a guard and patrol system together. To get boots on the ground tonight, as a matter of fact. OK, the nutshell.”

Rich looked at everyone in the room and continued, “We have at least a half dozen guys.” He looked at the women and said, “and when I say ‘guys’ I mean men or women. As long as people have some rudimentary training, they can volunteer for this. Anyway, we have about a half dozen guys, armed of course, at the entrance to Pierce Point Road. We have a car across the road. We’ll work on a real gate that can swing open and shut, but we can use a car for now. We need communications between the gate and a headquarters. We need enough people in reserve that we have guards to take shifts and to man the gate if someone is trying to shoot their way in.”

That thought caught a few people by surprise. They probably thought a “security” meeting would be like some homeowners’ association discussion of locking their doors and maybe some unarmed “neighborhood crime watch” crap that worked great when 911 answered calls in two minutes except, those days were gone.

Even out in Pierce Point, there were still plenty of people who hadn’t fully grasped that things were totally different now. They weren’t bad people, they just needed to process the changes. It was weird: back in Olympia, normalcy bias was the enemy. Grant fought against it. He was outnumbered by all the weenies who thought things were fine. He was in the minority there. But out at Pierce Point, he was in the majority. He didn’t have to fight as hard against normalcy bias, although it still existed.

For the first time since he fled Olympia, Grant realized he wasn’t furious at the people with normalcy bias like he had been in the past. As long as they didn’t cling to “normal” and let it affect their decision-making on important things, they’d be fine. If they did cling to it, they’d be dead, and get many others killed along with them. That’s the part that he would be watching for. Grant wasn’t on a crusade to have people think like him, but he was on a crusade to get through this, and people with normalcy bias would put him and his people in danger. It wasn’t personal. It was survival.

“There are two other things we need security-wise,” Rich said. “The first is a patrol that can respond to things door-to-door. These need to be the best trained because they are dealing with our families. This is where a no-thug requirement is key. The patrolmen need to be very well trained with firearms and tactics and respect for people.” Rich was looking directly at the Team. He had singled them out the second he saw them, but he needed to know if the well-armed guys in Mark’s truck were thugs or not.

“I will personally train and lead the patrol,” Rich said.

Grant wondered how Pow would react to that. Probably pretty well. Pow was glad to just be out in a safe place and having some training would only make him happier because he could do an even better job. It beat the shit out of selling insurance, which is what Pow had done during peacetime, just a few days ago.

“The second thing we need,” Rich said, “is a way to hold prisoners and, I guess, find out which ones are guilty.”

Here’s your role.

Grant suddenly knew exactly why he was in that room and in that neighborhood,. He had that odd feeling again that this was just the beginning of the role he was to fulfill.

“Chances are, we’re gonna need a judge, and a jail. At least some way to resolve disputes, and lock up people who are violent or thieves. As I see it, the jail won’t be fancy,” Rich said. “In fact, if you’re caught stealing from us or hurting us then I’m not real concerned that you’re comfy or even well fed. But we’re not animals. We won’t mistreat prisoners. This will mean a facility and some guards.”

Rich kept going. “The judge part will be pretty easy. Nothin’ fancy on trials. I just want someone or some people who can objectively look at things. I don’t want innocent people punished. Don’t worry. We won’t have lawyers and arguments and technicalities and week-long jury trials. Unless you guys want that, in which case we’ll try to make it happen.” Rich knew that the level of due process out there would be a topic of debate. He was hoping that if there were a lawyer in the room that he or she wouldn’t be a spaz who loved process over substance.

“Any questions?” Rich asked.

A hand went up from what looked like a cabin person. “What about the beach? That would be a way for people to come in and out.”

“Good point,” Rich said. “Well, we’ll need a beach patrol.” He pointed to the person asking the question. “You and me will get together after the meeting. You can coordinate the volunteers for what I’ll call the beach patrol. We’ll get some boats and some beach walkers. Thanks for bringing that to our attention.”

Another hand went up. “What kind of guns do we need for this?”

“Another excellent question,” Rich said. “We’re not a military force. We don’t need military weapons, although those are certainly welcomed,” he said looking at the Team. “If you’re familiar with your shotgun, hunting rifle, or handgun, then that’s what we need. I’d much rather have guys who know their weapon well than have people with the latest and greatest gizmos who are unfamiliar with those gizmos. People who haven’t shot ever, or in quite some time, will get trained. Some people probably have a couple extra guns. We could start a ‘gun library’ where people without a gun can check one out for a period of time. We would keep them in a central place, like a makeshift and secure armory. That way, the person loaning the gun to the community doesn’t have to worry about it walking off. Or, if people make arrangements to borrow a gun and keep it with them, that’s great, too. But it’s up to the person loaning the guns to loan them to the armory or directly to a person.”